


to have everything (and give it all away)

by dontcallmejordy



Category: X-Force (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Angst and Feels, M/M, Not another road trip fic, Pining, There's like a lil bit of sex in this but not much I swear, this is really just about star's hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-15 22:51:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17537831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontcallmejordy/pseuds/dontcallmejordy
Summary: “Dude,” Ric said. “Just, like, put your hair up.”-----Not Another Mexico Fic aka when will these boys finally Figure It Out





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This would be absolutely nothing without the editing/plotting help of the lovely @chemicalengiqueer on tumblr.
> 
> Title is from Steve by Alec Benjamin. The song truly has nothing to do with the fic, I just like the line.

Even with all the doors and windows open, the apartment was sweltering.

Rictor was sitting on the couch, trying to touch as little of his skin to the couch as possible, letting the droning sound of the telenovela lull him into a kind of half-asleep haze. Next to him, Shatterstar looked somehow even more miserable than Ric himself was. If Ric had to watch Star peel a mass of sticky hair off his back or shoulders one more time, he was going to scream. His own hair was only long enough to brush the back of his neck, but he kept running his fingers through it in sympathy. He could feel the shorter hairs at the back of his neck stand on end.

“Dude,” Ric said. “Just, like, put your hair up.”

Ric knew it was probably something to do with Mojoworld that made Star act like he was gonna either melt or freeze the second the temperature moved out of the 65 to 80 degree range, but he’d hoped in vain that some time in Mexico would have made Star a little more capable of coping with hot weather.

Instead, Ric had woken up one morning to an empty bed only to find Star folded into their fridge, the meager contents removed and the shelves stacked on the kitchen counter.

Then and now, Ric hadn’t been able to do anything except look on in wincing sympathy.

“I’m fine,” said Star, both irritation and misery clear as he peeled yet another damp strand off his forearm. He settled further into the futon, a beat up old thing Ric had found in the dumpster of a nearby apartment complex.

“You can put it up or I can cut it off in the middle of the night,” said Ric, going for flippant and ending on a much sharper note than he’d intended.

Star shot him an icy glare.

“We both know you’d be unsuccessful in that.”

Ric rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the telenovela playing on the tiny television.

“Whatever, man. I just feel like we’d attract a lot less attention if you were even trying to blend in.”

Ric knew he was just picking a fight. He was sweaty and irritable, and he was sick of watching Star sit on the futon looking miserable and completely unwilling to do anything about it.

Besides, it was only possible to talk about it during the day. The buzzing of the television and the noise outside provided welcome distraction that dulled the edge of his thoughts. Ric wasn’t ready to think about the countless sleepless nights spent laying side by side on their backs, touching only at the very top of the shoulder, and at the knee.

Ric would have suggested that he sleep on the floor. Would have arisen in a huff of sticky, exhausted frustration and dragged his pillow to the ground, mice and roaches be damned. Had moved to do just that a hundred times. Except that every time Ric thought he might, Star reached out and entwined their fingers and set Ric’s heart pounding until he fell into blissful, dreamless sleep.

Ric knew it said something about both of them that Star didn’t seem to be able to sleep through the night without Ric’s sticky, overheated presence crowding him to the edge of the futon and about Ric that he wouldn’t have traded their sleeping situation for a king-sized bed and a proper air conditioner.

They didn’t talk about it.

During the day Ric sat an appropriate distance from Star on the couch and watched him endlessly adjust his stupid long, flowing hair with such a petulant expression on his face that Ric almost had to laugh. Would have laughed if the entire thing wasn’t driving him crazy. Instead he sat on the couch and pretended to pay attention to his telenovela and watched out of the corner of his eye as Star lifted that stupid, impractical curtain of hair over and over again.

He felt a thousand arguments begin and die on the tip of his tongue but he said nothing. Ric was frustrated, and tired and confused and so clearly looking for something to fight about.

He sighed. “Whatever,” he said again, softer this time. “It’s just too fuckin’ hot.” It wasn’t an apology, but it was something close.

Star turned to look at Ric. Gave him a pensive look like he’d already forgotten what they were fighting about. He reached across Ric, a sudden movement, entirely unexpected in the stillness of the air.

Ric’s entire world narrowed to the slide of sweat soaked skin on skin as Star grabbed the remote. The look on Star’s face was almost defiant. It would have been easy to say something and let the whole argument start again but Ric let him have it without protest, let him click through the channels. A peace offering.

Silently, Ric turned his eyes back to the TV.

\--------------------- 

They were on the coast, in Puerto Vallarta, on a tip from of Ric’s contacts in Guadalajara. A warehouse, one of the shipments was moving tonight and this was their best chance to access product and family members all at once. Ric should have realized that his family would have mutants on their payroll, but it didn’t occur to him until his feet were stuck to the floor of the warehouse.

“Damn, is this really what my family’s got on offer?” Ric said as the mutant charged towards him. “Quality control’s gotten a lot shittier since I was last around.”

Small mercies, it didn’t look like she had a gun. Ric was pretty sure that he and Star had taken down everybody else, but the girl was proving to be much more elusive.

She was inches from Ric’s face, arms outstretched in claws when Star tackled her from the side and they both went down hard on the concrete floor. They fell behind some boxes, out of Ric’s line of sight but the sound of metal on concrete wasn’t promising.

Ric focused his powers to his feet to free himself from the floor, watching the yellowy substance move and vibrate as the concrete cracked around him but the substance stayed sticky, slowing his footsteps. By the time he got to the spot where Star and the girl had fallen, the girl was passed out cold on the ground. Star squatted over her body, his hands open, covered in whatever the it was that the girl seemed to be secreting from every inch of exposed skin. Ric glanced around the now empty warehouse, but there was nobody left. Bodies littered the ground. All Star’s doing, Ric was sure.

“Come on dude, let’s get out of here,” Ric said, trying not to make a face as he put his hand on Star’s shoulder. Star didn’t say anything. “Dude, seriously this stuff is so nasty. I wanna get clean.”

“It’s everywhere,” said Star, voice distant. He shrugged off Ric’s hand and stood up stiffly. Ric tried not to to focus on the thick strings of ooze that still connected his hand to Star’s shoulder. He wiped it on his leg, breaking the connection but smearing goo all over his pants. Ric winced.

“Yeah man, I guess my family’s upgraded to mutants for hire.” Ric looked down at his hand. “Kind of a shitty power though.”

He turned to Star, a joke about the goo already on the tip of his tongue but something about the hollow, vaguely panicked look in Star’s eyes stopped him.

“Oh geez,” said Ric. “Dude, are you freaking out right now?”

Star nodded, just a little.

“Okay, okay. That’s fine, this is all fine,” Ric said, almost as much for himself as for Star. “Can you keep it together until we get back to the motel? It’s kind of a walk.”

Star nodded again.

“Okay, great.” said Ric.

Ric wasn’t looking forward to the walk back to the shitty motel room they’d booked in Puerto Vallarta proper, but getting a taxi was out of the question. Even if they’d had the cash to spare, Ric couldn't imagine managing that transaction in his current state, covered in goo and with half of his mind preoccupied with whatever that goo had knocked loose in Star.

The walk back to their motel was couldn’t have been more than an hour but it felt like four. There was no way they could have gotten in a taxi, especially with Star as sticky as he was and Ric not much better.

Instead, they trudged along the side of the highway, trying to stay out of the headlights of the cars and buses that passed by. It was torturous. Grass and dirt stuck to the substance and made it gritty. Ric’s gloves felt like they might be glued to his hands.

Ric tried to make some conversation but Star never offered any response, walking stiffly with his neck straight and his hands held out from his sides. Ric glanced over at him occasionally, but Star seemed to be keeping it together well enough.

It wasn’t like Ric hadn’t dealt with this before. Sometimes Star just freaked out about random stuff. This was apparently one of those random things.

Ric thought he might cry from relief when he saw the lighted sign for the shitty, tiny motel that they were staying in. Star must have been feeling similar relief, because he picked up his pace and Ric had to jog to keep up.

Star stopped abruptly outside the door. Ric was still fumbling in his pockets, praying that the key wasn’t too sticky to use when Star began to strip his clothes off. Ric stopped, the key clutched tightly in his fist and looked around nervously. There was nobody around, the parking lot mostly empty and all but the windows at the far end of the building dark. The sound of traffic was only thing that broke the stillness.

With a sigh, Ric unlocked the door, so they could at least make a quick escape, then joined Star and stripped on the concrete in front of the room. Ric could feel needles from the cheap doormat digging into his feet as they abandoned their clothes in a heap.

“Come on dude,” said Ric, hand solidly on the middle of Star’s back. “We can’t hang around out here.”

Ric took one last look around and shuffled a now-naked Star bodily into the room.

The second the door shut behind them, Star started to shake. He stood in the middle of the room, somehow looking small even in the cramped space. Ric could feel the heat emanating from where his hand rested on the middle of Star’s back.

Ric herded Star into the tiny bathroom and turned the shower on, trying not to think about their mutual nudity. There was nowhere to go while the other showered. If they were both standing in the tub at least they weren’t making the rest of the room nasty. Ric steered star into the tub and then climbed in after him, trying to put as much space between him and Star as possible.

Despite the fact that Star was hogging most of the water, the hot water felt good on Ric’s skin. Whatever the substance was, Ric realized with relief, it must have been tied to the mutant’s power. In the time it had taken them to walk back to the motel, the substance had lost most of its stickiness. It was still the texture and color of honey, but they were no longer in any danger being glued to the floor, and based on Star’s palpable relief, hot water was enough to get most of it off.

Star seemed mostly okay once he’d gotten in the shower, although he still had a thousand yard stare that Ric was going to worry about once they both got out of the shower. Ric left Star to mechanically scrub his body in peace.

Ric was fully zoned out, thinking about how badly he wanted to be free of this stupid sticky feeling when a ripping sound brought him back to attention. Ric stared for a few seconds, watching matted clumps of hair cover the drain.

“Hey! Stop that!” Ric said, reaching to grab Star’s hand, already holding a fistful of his own hair. Star’s hand stopped pulling, but he didn’t say anything. Ric grabbed both of Star’s hands, entangled in his hair. “What’re you doing?”

“It has to be clean,” Star said. He sounded nervous.

“Dude, the hair is going to be a way bigger problem, can you just tie it up until we’re both a little less gooey and then we can deal with it?”

Star looked alarmed. “It has to be clean,” he insisted. “This was my mistake for changing the style. Not following the rules.”

Ric had no idea what that meant. Trying to parse Star’s reasoning for anything was a challenge for another time. Instead, Ric ran his hands up and down Star’s arms, pink skin hot under his already overheated palms. “I promise I’ll help you get it clean, we just have to get un-sticky first so we can figure out how to do that. Can you please please just put it in a bun for a little bit? I’m not going to tell anybody.”

Star looked nervously around the tiny bathroom, then looked down at the small mass of orange hair now clogging the shower drain. Slowly, he coiled his hair into a high bun and stepped out of the shower.

Star stood in the middle of the bathroom, dripping wet and unmoving for the entire time it took Ric to get clean. Ric tried to wash as fast as he could, but the sticky substance was difficult to get off in a single go. When he was finally as clean as he was going to be, Ric got out of the shower and slid past Star to put some fresh clothes on, trying not to touch him in the cramped space.

“Stay right there,” he said.

When he came back, Star still hadn’t moved.

Ric tossed him a pair of shorts. Star caught them one-handed and put them on.

“Any chance you’ll just let me cut it out of your hair dude?” Looking at the unfortunate state of Star’s hair didn’t give Ric a lot of hope for the evening. He just wanted to go to sleep. He could tell by Star’s drooping eyelids that he wanted the same.

Star shot him a glare that could melt steel.

Ric put his hands up in a defensive position. “Okay, fine. It was just a suggestion. You’d look nice with short hair.”

Star gave Ric a hurt, desperate look. It was so clear he didn’t want to talk about it, and if there was anything Julio Richter was good at, it was not talking about his feelings. Ric sighed and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it into the driest corner of the bathroom.

“Okay, sit on the edge of the tub. Facing out,” he added quickly. Star obediently turned and sat on the edge of the tub, still so stupid tall, but at least this way Ric could stand in the tub and actually get a handle on Star’s hair.

Hot water seemed to be doing the trick to get the substance off skin, so Ric turned the water as hot as he could stand. He pulled Star’s head back as gently as he could, until Star was almost leaning against Ric. Water pouring over him, soaking his only pair of clean boxers, Ric began working his hands through Star’s hair, working a chunk at a time.

Ric stood, working his hands through Star’s hair, until his hands were pruny and his fingers were sore. Despite the best efforts of the bath mat, it was clear they were going to have to deal with the puddle forming on the bathroom floor at some point. The room was silent except for the sound of splashing water.

Star sat mute and motionless, his hands curled into tense fists in his lap. Ric could see a muscle in Star’s jaw jump every time Ric pulled on his hair.

It felt like it took forever, and Star’s hair felt a little scratchy from all the hot water, but eventually Ric managed to work all of the substance out of Star’s hair. When he was finished, he turned the water off and Star stood on wobbly legs, his curtain of hair dripping into the growing puddle on the floor. Ric stepped out of the tub, maneuvering around Star. He grabbed a towel and stood on his toes to place it on top of Star’s head, covering his eyes in the process.

Ric moved to take his hands away, but Star held them in place, big hands wrapped easily around Ric’s wrists. Rivulets of water streamed their way down his arms. Star leaned over and pressed his lips against Ric’s, dry and close-mouthed. Ric was balanced on his toes, frozen in place. It felt simultaneously like some kind of earth-shattering revelation and like the most natural extension of everything that had happened up to now.

Ric leaned into the kiss, deepening it, Star’s mouth warm against his own.

After a beat, Star broke the kiss and released Ric’s wrists. Ric settled back on his heels, staring right at Star, searching for any kind of explanation.

Star offered nothing, just began towelling off his hair. Ric stayed in the spot where Star had left him. He watched Star for a beat and then walked out to the bedroom to change.

Ric laid down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, lights still on and pants still soaking wet. He focused hard on the ceiling’s ugly popcorn texture and tried not to think. The hinges on the bathroom door creaked and Ric squeezed his eyes shut. He felt the bed dip next to him. Ric rolled onto his side and opened his eyes to find himself face to face with Star. His breath hitched.

Star had turned the light off when he came in and now the room was dim, lit only by the light leaking in from the bathroom. Ric could still make out the searching expression on Star’s face, those strange blue eyes stood out with perfect clarity even in the darkness of the room. He held eye contact with Star, resisting the urge to close his eyes and turn away.

“In the arena,” said Star, voice low. “Mojo controlled everything about me. My hair was impractical for fighting, a liability, but it played well on the cameras. It featured prominently in my advertising. There were...rules about how I could manage it.”

“When I joined the Cadre Alliance, they said I was free, that I could change my clothes or my appearance without permission. That I no longer had to exist for the cameras. But every time I tried to cut my hair, every time I try to see myself with something else...” Star trailed off.

Heart pounding in his ears, Ric reached out and threaded his fingers together with Star’s. Star stopped and looked down at their intertwined hands, then back up at Ric.

“So much has changed, but that...” The look on Star’s face lost and vulnerable, something private and available only to Ric.

“Hey dude, it’s okay, it’s really okay. I don’t—It’s fine. One thing at a time, you know?” Ric could tell he was babbling, but he didn’t have anything else to offer. “Whatever you gotta do to get through the day, you gotta do. Even if it means taking care of your long-ass impractical hair.”

Star looked at him intently, searching his face for some form of reprimand.

“My weakness inconvenienced you,” Star said.

“Nah dude it’s really fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Star looked at Ric with an intensity that made him want to turn away. Star was silent for a long moment, the sound of their breath the only thing in the room. Ric thought he might have fallen asleep.

“I’ve tried—I am trying—to be better, stronger, kinder. I am sorry I can’t do more,” said Star, finally.

“Hey, hey, don’t talk like that. It’s fine. That’s just—that’s what we do for each other, you know? It’s part of the deal.”

Ric squeezed Star’s hand. He hoped it was enough.

“Thank you, Julio.”

Everything suddenly felt much bigger than it had before, and Ric wasn’t sure what to do with it.

Instead, he leaned forward to kiss Star again, rolling on top of Star so he was straddling Star, one leg between Star’s.

They kissed for what felt like hours, Star’s hands on Ric’s hips, until Ric’s wrist was sore from holding himself up and they were both panting. Ric broke the kiss and looked down at Star who looked utterly, blissfully wrecked.

Ric stopped holding himself up, easing down so he was pressed chest to chest with Star. Star ran his hands up and down Ric’s sides almost absently.

“It’s late,” said Ric, moving to roll off.

Star closed his arms around Ric, holding him in place.

“Will you—?” The unfinished request hung in the air.

“Yeah dude,” said Ric, shifting a bit so he was in a slightly more comfortable position on top of Star. “Whatever you want.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took one hundred million years. There is a lil bit of sex in this chapter because I gotta earn that M rating somehow lmao.

Ric woke up the next morning to light streaming in between the blinds with a strange sense of fear in the pit of his stomach. He laid there for a moment with his eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the room, unwilling to break the tense uncertainty of the moment. He was alone in the bed, but Ric could hear Star working out in the corner of the room.

“Hey,” said Star, even though Ric hadn’t opened his eyes yet.

“Hey,” said Ric. He rolled over onto his back, stared at the ceiling for a moment, then sat up. “You want to get some breakfast and then head out?”

“Yes,” said Star, same as ever.

Ric let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

\---------------

Nights in warehouses and illicit bars began to run together, crates of ammunition and drugs all looked the same, and even Ric felt the faces of his cousins become interchangeable.

They settled into a rhythm: find the supply route, travel to the warehouse, take it down, and let Ric open a hole in the ground to swallow the building.

The first time Star pulled Ric into a kiss in the middle of a now-empty warehouse, it tasted like sweat and blood. Ric thought he might die right there: just keel over and ascend to heaven from the perfect, adrenalized intensity of it all.

It was beautiful and intense. Ric wanted to bottle this feeling up and save it forever. Which was why Ric wasn’t surprised when Alejandro showed up at his door.

“Your Mamá wants you to come by,” he said, matter-of-fact and vaguely annoyed. “She said to bring your friend.”

Ric just looked at him. Alejandro turned and walked away down the hallway. Ric shut the door a little harder than he meant to, the frame of the house vibrating slightly. Behind him, he could ear the telltale metal sounds of Star setting his swords down.

“Who was that?” Star asked.

“Just my cousin,” Ric sighed. “We’ll go for lunch tomorrow.”

Star gave him a searching look, his head cocked slightly to one side.

“We have plans to hit another warehouse tomorrow. We’ll need to leave by the afternoon,” he said.

“I know dude, but if we don’t do this she’s gonna show up at our house.”

Star looked around at the apartment with a vaguely horrified expression, no doubt taking in the peeling paint on the walls and their communal wardrobe of clothes scattered around the bed.

“The warehouse can wait another day,” said Star.

It wasn’t as if it had been that long since Ric had last seen her. When he left X-Force the first time, he stayed at her house for a while after he left. It was fine, if a bit awkward. The house was just a little different in all the ways that mattered, his cousins and aunts and uncles unfamiliar after so long apart. If Ric was being honest with himself, he wasn’t entirely ready to examine the reasons he hadn’t paid her a visit yet.

If Star had questions, he didn’t voice them. He watched Ric silently as he tried on three different shirts in quick succession. Ric was so lost in thought he didn’t really spare a thought for Star until they were almost ready to leave. He looked up to see Star dressed basically the same as he always was, except that he’d somehow folded his hair into some kind of bun situation. There were pieces loose, framing his face.

Ric stood there for a minute, staring.

“Uh,” said Ric. “Yeah. Your—um, your hair looks nice.”

Star put a hand to the back of his head self-consciously. “I wasn’t sure—”

Star trailed off like he always did when he was trying to express something to do with Mojoworld. It made Ric want to scream, sometimes. _Just fucking tell me. Just explain it so I can understand!_ Instead, Ric stood there helplessly, his mouth open just a little, halfway to an apology or maybe a dismissal. Instead he said:

“I’m sure Mamá will love it.”

That was apparently the right answer, or something close enough to it, because Star turned and walked to the door.

The cab ride to his mother’s house was spent in silence. Ric spent the entire ride eyes glued to his own hands clenched in his lap, too nervous to pay any attention to Star.

Ric’s mamá was in the kitchen, and Ric forced down any remaining doubt as he gave her a hug.

“Hola Mamá.” said Ric, trying to keep his voice natural. “This is Star.”

Ric watched Star step forward, hand outstretched, his best manners clearly on display, but Ric’s mom pulled him into a hug immediately. Ric put a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh at Star’s shocked expression.

She pulled back, holding him by the arms, giving Star an assessing gaze.

“Star,” she said. “What an unusual name.”

“It is because I am—” said Star.

“American,” Ric cut in quickly, shooting Star a glare that he hoped conveyed how very much he did not want to get into it with his mother.

Star nodded a little too enthusiastically. “From America,” said Star.

Ric tried not to roll his eyes and made a mental note to go over their cover story in a little more depth next time.

“You speak Spanish so well!” said Ric’s mother.

“I learned from watching television,” said Star, which seemed to be enough for his mother.

“Come, come,” she said. “I made lunch.”

They sat at his Mamá’s kitchen table and ate tamales. Ric’s mom fussed over both Ric and Star, urging them to eat and pointedly not asking about what they had been up to in the city. Or about what had kept them away. Instead, she brought out old photo albums and showed Star photos of Ric when he was a baby, chubby cheeked and eager.

“Look at his smile!” she said. “He used to be able to charm the neighbors into anything with that smile! Such a little troublemaker, but the face of an angel!”

Star nodded, never taking his eyes off the photos. Ric resisted the urge to shut the album, or worse to tell Star not to look so intensely.

Ric had been worried. Even when he was trying, Star wasn’t able to feign interest in anything. But he seemed genuinely engaged by the old family photo albums. By the terrible, blurry photos of Ric and his cousins and aunts and uncles.

Ric let it go on for as long as he could stand.

“Mamá, please,” he said finally. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“I never see you!” she replied. “I’m so used to only having the photo albums to remember your beautiful face by!”

Ric sighed, helpless in the face of parental guilt. Instead, he took his coffee and went out to the backyard, leaving Star and his mom to the albums.

He stood on the back porch and watched the chickens move around the yard and listened to the sound of the neighborhood thought about how normal all of this seemed. How quickly he’d traded living in a hollowed out super villain fortress for the domesticity of sharing an apartment, and working out a cleaning schedule, and a purpose that didn’t involve saving the world on a regular basis.

Standing on the porch, Ric was struck by the sudden, painful realization that this was what he wanted. Not exactly this, but something approaching normalcy. He’d never thought he was going to live to see 18.

Now at 19, with 20 looming on the horizon, everything seemed somehow more and less important than it ever had when he was working for X-Force.

Ric heard laughter echo from inside, no doubt the sound of Star sharing stories about Ric that he probably shouldn’t. Ric shook his head quickly, then stepped back inside to join his mother and Star in the kitchen.

Star and his mamá were exactly where he’d left them. Sitting at the table, heads bowed around a photo album, chuckling conspiratorially.

“What are you guys talking about?” Ric asked as he approached.

Ric’s Mamá only laughed harder.

\----------------

They laid in the dark that night and Ric stared at the crack in ceiling and thought about childhood photos and the taste of his mom’s pozole and the fact that he was finally starting to feel like maybe they should decorate this stupid shitty apartment.

Ric had never planned out any part of his life, never bothered to look further than what was necessary to keep himself alive for the next few months. Laying in their shitty, tiny bed, with Star’s hand cool in his own, Ric let the thought cross his mind that maybe he finally had something worth holding onto for a little bit longer than that.

Ric was being crushed by the revelation, his newfound sense of resolve felt like something big and heavy sitting on his chest. But it was 2 a.m. and there was nothing to do about it now. Instead, he concentrated on the shallow, even sound of Star’s breathing and tried very hard to fall asleep.

\---------------

Ric managed to keep his existential crisis to himself for just short of eight hours. They were sitting on the floor around their tiny, crappy coffee table, morning light streaming into the apartment, turning Star’s hair into liquid copper, warm and sleepy against Ric’s back. Time seemed to move slowly around them, the normal ebb and flow of life ground almost to a halt.

The air was silent around them except for the low drone of the television.

Ric looked at Star, at the most beautiful face he’d ever seen focused totally and entirely on his plate of eggs and tortillas and thought,  _Oh my god, I love you. That’s what this has been about the entire time._

“Star,” said Ric, suddenly, impulsively.

Star looked up, turning the full intensity of those blue, blue eyes to Ric.

“I don’t think—” Ric almost stopped himself, but the rest came out in a rush. “I don’t think I want to do this forever, this being a superhero thing, I mean. And I, uh, I don’t know what I want to do next, but...I know for sure I want to do it with you. Forever”

Star looked at Ric, his face completely transformed by an expression of shocked confusion that would have been endearing if it weren’t so goddamn terrifying.

“I—” said Ric. And then suddenly, without really knowing what he was doing, Ric grabbed Star’s face and pulled him into a kiss.

Star was still for only a moment and then he was kissing back. Ric’s hands were everywhere, up and down Star’s back, reaching down to grab Star’s ass. Ric was leaned forward at a ridiculous angle to reach Star, as desperate and hungry as he’d ever been.

They separated too quickly and Ric was entirely sure that Star’s startled expression mirrored his own.

“Please stay,” said Ric breathlessly.

Star just looked at him with that ridiculous deer in the headlights expression.

“I can’t stop thinking about the future,” said Ric. “And the only thing I see is you.”

“I love you,” said Star, all in a rush, the shocked expression on his face indicating that Star hadn’t expected to say that either. “I love you and I will be back in two hours.”

At that he stood and was gone, leaving Ric kneeling in the middle of the living room, one hand resting on the ground, the sound of the slamming door echoing in his ears.

\---------------

Ric wasn’t really sure where to go from there. He was pretty sure that Star was coming back or at least delusional enough to hope that was true. There was no possible way that Ric was ever going to track Star down if he didn’t want to be found.

Instead, Ric wandered aimlessly around the apartment, thinking about how absurdly stupid it was to say something so completely unplanned.

He’d finished eating sliced cheese directly out of the refrigerator and had moved to sorting the communal laundry pile when he heard the door handle rattle.

Ric whipped around to see Star walking in, significantly sweatier than when he had left but otherwise unchanged.

“You’re back,” said Ric. “Uh, I mean—”

Star gave him a strange look. “Why are you holding my underwear?”

“Oh,” said Ric, looking down at what was indeed Star’s underwear clutched in his hands. He’d twisted it in his hands as he spoke. “I was cleaning.” Ric dropped the underwear to the floor, feeling a little ridiculous.

“I was only gone for a few hours,” said Star, with just the slightest quirk of his lips. “Things had gotten that dire?”

Ric looked at him for a moment. Star’s mouth turned up into the barest hint of a grin. Ric laughed out loud.

“Hey,” he said, “I bared my soul to you, it was a stressful moment.”

Star’s expression twisted to something sad. He crossed the room, crowding into Ric’s space, putting his hand on the side of Ric’s face, his thumb rubbing back and forth gently across the curve of Ric’s cheek. Ric was suddenly, painfully aware that he needed a shave.

“I can’t think clearly when you’re around,” said Star. “When I’m near you, I only want more.”

“Yeah?” asked Ric. “And what’s so bad about that?” He could hear the fine note of insecurity that ran through his voice and he hated himself for it.

“I want this,” Star reached out and took his free hand in Ric’s. “To be real. I want to do it correctly.”

“We don’t have to do this perfectly,” said Ric, a pleading edge to his voice. “We can figure it out as we go.”

“You are too important for me ruin this,” said Star. “You told me before, sometimes leaving is necessary even when it hurts. That was true for you then—”

Ric felt like he’d been turned to stone. He wanted to scream, or cry or do something that would make Star understand how completely unacceptable the whole thing was. Instead he just stood there, hands balled into fists, trembling.

“Julio,” said Star, his voice painful and tight. Ric might have assumed Star was close to tears if he didn’t know better. “Please. I let you go before, you said I’d be fine.”

Ric was suddenly, irrationally angry. Angry at Star, angry at their stupid fucking life that kept pulling them apart, angry about having his own words thrown back at him. It wasn’t a good feeling, it was usually the feeling that preceded Ric saying something he really really shouldn’t.

Ric opened his mouth to respond but the hurt look on Star’s face stopped him. It was exactly the same expression Star had worn that afternoon at JFK, begging Ric to stay. Ric’s anger melted away.

“Okay,” said Ric, his voice cracking, his jaw tight with the effort of not crying. “Okay.”

“I didn’t understand before,” said Star, as intense as Ric had ever seen him. “But our paths will cross again. This is not the end. It can’t be. I’m coming back for you, for the future we’ll have together.”

“I made a mistake,” said Ric, voice thick and already choked with tears he was trying very very hard to hide. “If I could take it all back I would.”

“I know,” said Star. “I need you to do something for me before I go.”

“Anything,” said Ric, voice finally breaking. “Whatever you want.”

\---------------

The bathroom tile was cold under Ric’s feet, the scissors warm in Ric’s hands. Star was kneeling on the floor in front of him, shirtless, wearing only those stupid tiny shorts he always favored in the Arizona desert. His hair was in a long plait down his back, a mile of unruly red curls desperately attempting to free themselves from the braid.

“Are you sure this is what you want dude?”

Star was shaking, just a little. “Yes,” he ground out. “Please, just begin.”

Slowly, Ric brought the scissors to the top of the braid where it touched Star’s head. He felt Star shiver as the cold scissors touched his neck, then felt him suddenly relax. Ric closed the scissors.

Star’s hair was so stupid thick that it took three chops to cut all the way through Star’s hair. When the braid finally fell to the floor with a soft thunk, Ric stopped to stare down at it for a moment. Star had stopped shivering, and his hair, freed from the braid, hung in a messy, uneven tangle around his face.

“You still want to go all the way?” Ric asked. There was still a decent amount of hair left, maybe they could salvage it.

“Yes,” said Star, sounding no more comfortable with the decision.

“Okay,” said Ric, doubt coloring his words.

He worked in silence, first cutting Star’s hair as evenly as he could around his head, watching silky wisps of red fall to the floor. They clung to Star’s back and Ric’s legs, standing out in stark relief against their skin.

The room was silent except for the sound of scissors and their slightly out of sync breathing.

When Ric was sure that he’d gotten it mostly even, he broke out the clippers, shearing his hair to just a couple of inches of bristly red.

“Stand up and turn around,” said Ric. “Let me make sure I’ve got it even.”

Star stood, shedding pieces of hair as he moved. Ric reached up and brushed a wispy clump of locks off his bare shoulder.

“Lean over,” he said.

Obediently, Star leaned down and let Ric ran his hands over Star’s head, searching for any longer pieces. He found none, but moved his hands down so that he was holding Star’s face between his hands.

He was silent for a moment, looking into Star’s impossibly blue, impossibly intense eyes.

“I love you,” Ric said. “I love you so much it scares me.”

Star leaned forward to close the gap and Ric tipped his head up to meet him in a kiss. They kissed for a long time, a lazy glide of teeth and tongue. Ric’s hands roamed everywhere over Star’s head, exploring the new bristly landscape. They broke apart, still close enough to share breath. Ric could feel smooth pieces of hair under his feet, shifting beneath his toes.

“You really can’t stay?” asked Ric breathlessly.

“You make me want to be better,” said Star. “Every day, I find myself a little different.”

“When your mother showed me photos of you as a child it made me realize that I am still so far from human. I had no childhood to teach me, I am learning everything as it comes to me. I don’t know what it means to live for the sake of living.”

“You know I never needed you to be anything more than this,” said Ric, voice thick and already choked with tears he was trying very very hard to hide.

“You want a future I can’t even envision yet. I don’t know what it means to live for the sake of living,” said Star, desperate and upset, clearly willing Ric understand. “I want a future with you, I want it and I barely even understand what it means to want something, but first I have to figure out how to live.”

“I’ll wait,” said Ric, stupidly, impulsively. “I can see my future and I know that it involves you. Even if it takes years. I’ll wait for you to figure that out.”

A smile broke out across Star’s features, so bright and honest it made Ric’s chest hurt. Ric felt himself returning the smile without even thinking about it.

\-----------

Laying in bed that night, Ric rolled over to kiss Star in the darkness, let the kiss get hot and deep until his lips were slick and raw.

He rolled over onto Star, pressed himself against his body, let Star feel how hard he was. Ric’s hand drifted to Star’s cock, felt up and down the whole length of it pressed tightly against the line of Star’s underwear.

He moved his hand up and down Star’s cock in careful, motions, his fingers just drifting, light on the thin fabric of Star’s underwear, never breaking the kiss, revelling in the feeling of the tiny, desperate sounds that Star made underneath him.

“I want us to be closer,” gasped Ric, breaking the kiss.

“Please,” said Star broken and desperate. Star’s hand was already working to free his cock from his underwear.

Ric had always thought Star would be hesitant, but Star treated it with the same intensity of focus that he treated everything, reaching down with one hand to pull Ric back into a kiss even as he brought their cocks together, stroking up and down with quick, sure movements.

Ric pressed his hand so hard into the futon he was convinced he was going to put a hole in it, and breathed _I love you I love you I love you_ into Star’s mouth over and over again.

“You’re so beautiful,” said Star, in the space between kisses. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I love you.”

Ric came with a gasp, would have been embarrassed about how quick it was if Star hadn’t followed right behind him.

It was a long moment before Ric could get up to grab the nearest t-shirt to wipe them off with, mired in the gnawing sense of finality that hung in the air. He wiped them down as much as he could then tossed the shirt carelessly into the black void of the room.

He fell asleep half on top of Star, arm draped over Star’s shoulder, hand resting on the bristly remains of Star’s hair. Star’s arm wrapped posessively around his back.

When he woke up, Ric was alone in the bed, and he knew without checking that the apartment was empty. Later, he would get up and make breakfast and try and make a plan for what he was going to do for the rest of his life. He’d start calling some contacts, probably visit his Mamá one more time before he left.

For now, he laid in bed and listened to the sounds of the city outside his apartment and thought about the future.


End file.
